


Oblivious Epiphany

by alpha_exodus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Coming Out, Everyone is friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, drunk drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco drink, Draco causes distractions, and Harry makes several realizations in quick succession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivious Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> So this is definitely the wrong season for a Halloween drabble, but I just realized I'd forgotten to post this! I hope it's still enjoyable~ Written for Dralloween 2015 on tumblr.   
> I honestly just wanted to write drunk!drarry with oblivious!Harry and knees touching, so that's exactly what happened!

Harry was apparently too tipsy to be functioning properly, because when Draco Malfoy sank into the couch next to him, he didn’t even bother trying to tell him to leave. 

“Dra-co Mal-foy,” he said instead, testing the syllables against his tongue.

“Drunk much, Potter?” Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not quite. Probably in a bit, but…” Harry sighed, eyeing his empty glass. An empty glass meant that he had to get up and cross the room, which was… a quite daunting prospect, honestly.

A gaggle of moving bodies took up most of the center of the eighth year common room, all throwing themselves into the music and the magic of the Halloween night. And where there weren’t people dancing, there were couples flirting and snogging on various chairs around the room. Harry had no desire to go near the other lust-filled teenagers—he’d had enough of watching sickeningly sweet exchanges through Ron and Hermione in the past couple of months. (Not that he didn’t love them, of course—they had just been on the wrong side of _too much_ lately.)

It was too bad he’d chosen the wrong sofa, as the table with the drinks on it was on the very opposite side of the room. Harry would have _Accio’d_ one if he’d thought he could do that without it spilling open.

Draco followed his gaze, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it, Potter. Why do you think I’m not drunk off my arse yet? I tried to get over to the table five minutes ago and one of the Hufflepuff girls basically mauled me,” his nose wrinkled in a depiction of faint horror.

Harry snorted. “Who, Susan?” he tilted his head over to the corner of the room, in which Susan and another Hufflepuff boy were now snogging.

“Yup,” Draco popped the ‘p’, and Harry sighed.

“No more drinking for me then, I s’pose,” he murmured lamentably.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re just giving up?” he asked, and Harry imagined that he sounded disapproving.

“You just said not to even think about trying,” Harry squinted at him.

“Not _now_ , at least,” Draco emphasized, mischief in his eyes. “Just wait. I’ve planned a distraction.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, honestly a bit scared at the prospect of Draco’s ‘distraction’, but Draco said nothing more. It gave Harry time to contemplate the position he had gotten himself into.

Despite his lingering instincts to push the other boy away, he could no longer say he loathed Draco anymore. They’d both apologized after the war, and then that’d been it—the animosity had evaporated like a fast-bubbling potion.

They were more than acquaintances now, and Harry thought that if pressed, he’d say they were friends. Draco had been there for him when his best friends had suddenly merged into a couple, had been there there to talk to when Ron and Hermione weren’t around. Even a year ago, he would never have thought that he’d be comfortable with Draco. But here they were. He and Draco, on a couch, alone and not even hexing one another.

Life provided nice surprises sometimes.

And then sometimes life provided not-so-nice surprises, because just then there was a loud knock on the common room door.

Harry’s heart froze. Shite, shite, it was McGonagall and she had found out about the party and was coming to give them all three months’ worth of detention—

Apparently everyone else was having the same thoughts, because there was a startled frenzy as the prefects began to hurriedly rush their drunker peers up to the dormitories. As soon as the music had been shut off and the table of alcohol had been hastily covered with one of Dean’s painted banners, Ernie Macmillan cautiously approached the door and opened it.

It was… Luna? Dressed in a wildly colored costume with wings and a very tall hat, no less.

She looked around the room, seemingly startled by the fact that everyone else was startled by her. “Ah… trick or treat?” she asked with a small smile, and a couple people in the room began to laugh with relief.

“What the hell, Luna? You know the password! You gave us all a fright,” Ernie shook his head, grinning and gesturing for her to come in nonetheless. Someone started the music back up, and then it was almost like the interruption had never happened.

That was how it had been, since the war. Everyone was jumpy, but everyone was also all the more forgiving. They had gone through terrible things together, yes, but it was all right now.

Harry glanced over at Draco, only to see that Draco wasn’t there anymore. He swiveled his head, scanning the room for that distinctive head of blond hair. Not on the dance floor, not near the drinks…

And then there was a hand tugging at his wrist, and he almost jumped.

“What—oh, there you are,” he tried to pretend like he hadn’t been surprised.

“Did you like my distraction?” Draco grinned, pulling him in the direction of the dormitories. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s loud.”

Distraction? Ah—Draco now had a bottle of firewhisky in his other hand. The thought seemed dulled, somehow, possibly because his mental processes were a bit encumbered by the oddly nice feeling of Draco’s hand around his wrist.

Chasing away the sudden and interesting jitters with a swallow, Harry followed him down the hallway. “That was your distraction? But Luna was already invited,” Harry pointed out wryly.

“I owled her and told her to knock instead of just coming in,” Draco half-whispered, and then he _giggled._

Harry’s first realization was that Draco had truly never lost the dramatic tendencies he had showed time and time again in his youth. His second was that Draco was probably tipsier than he’d thought, judging by the fact that Draco was being more open than he’d ever been with Harry before.

A few of the drunker students were laughing their way back to the common room, paying no attention to the two of them as they made their way to Draco’s door. Tapping it lightly his wand, Draco dropped Harry’s wrist, motioning for Harry to enter as the torches flared on.

Harry felt oddly lost without Draco’s hand on his arm, but it wasn’t a feeling he was about to admit to.

He stepped into Draco’s room, which was as tidy as the first and only time Harry’d seen it—Draco had been retrieving his Charms notebook a few weeks ago so that they could study with Ron and Hermione. The room looked almost exactly like Harry’s, except that Harry’s was much messier and not quite so green.

“All right. Let’s drink, then,” Draco shut the door behind them, striding over to sit on the floor against his bed.

Harry crossed to sit in front of him, leaning against the edge of Draco’s desk. He was honestly glad that Draco had suggested they leave the party proper. It had been a fun thing to look forward to, set up by the Hufflepuffs to help improve everyone’s Halloween spirit, but Ron and Hermione had excused themselves what seemed like ages ago, and the scene had dimmed considerably once his friends had left. “Are we drinking straight out of the bottle?”

“Of course not,” Draco sounded vaguely horrified, flicking his wand with an _Accio_. He nimbly caught the two shot glasses that sailed over from the bottom of his trunk. Eyeing them speculatively, he cast a quick _Scourgify_ before pouring a liberal dose of firewhisky in each. “I am always prepared,” he boasted, and Harry snorted.

“You weren’t prepared last week when you forgot your Transfiguration essay,” Harry took the proffered shot glass with a grin.

Draco spluttered, nearly choking on the shot of whisky he’d just taken. “That was an exception,” he protested hotly, rolling his eyes.

Harry chuckled, downing his shot with a quick swallow. It burned on the way down, leaving him with a warmth that oozed all the way to his toes.

“Potter,” Draco prompted, and Harry blinked.

“Yeah?”

“You were staring at me,” Draco quirked an eyebrow, and Harry averted his eyes quickly.

“Was not! Just… habit,” he defended himself, realizing after the fact that he sounded either like a stalker or like a first year with their first crush.

Draco’s eyes widened with mirth. “Habit? Whatever do you mean?” he said, feigning innocence (as if he hadn’t been watching Harry as much as Harry watched him for the last several years).

“You know. I used to do it a lot. Because you were my rival,” Harry shook his head as if it were trivial. It was weird though—he hadn’t even realized that he’d been staring at Draco, watching as the flush in his cheekbones grew darker with the alcohol. How odd.

“Right,” Draco waggled his eyebrows, as if insinuating something that Harry couldn’t even begin to decipher. But then his smile slipped away, and he bit his lip slightly. “Hey… Potter?”

“Hmm?” Harry resisted a shiver at the sudden seriousness of Draco’s tone.

Draco paused, pouring them each another shot, the glasses held delicately between his fingers. He slid one over to Harry, waiting until Harry had swallowed it down before taking his own.

Harry watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, and a sensation ran down his spin that was akin to so many tiny spiders. He shook that thought away, swiping through the webs of odd contentment in his head. It must be the firewhisky.

“What were you going to say?” he prompted Draco, who seemed to be mulling something over.

Draco looked up at him, eyes suddenly bright. “Are you gay, Potter?”

“Am I… what?” Harry flushed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Are you gay?” Malfoy asked again. He didn’t seem accusatory—just curious, and Harry didn’t really know what to think.

“I haven’t… I’ve never really thought about it,” he said, and was embarrassed to find that his voice was suddenly squeaky.

“All right,” Draco shrugged, toying with his shot glass. “Just wondering. Have you done the Charms essay yet?” he switched topics nonchalantly, and Harry blinked in surprise.

“Wait, no! Why’d you want to know?”

“About the Charms essay?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“No! About… me,” he murmured.

“Oh,” Draco said, and then a slow grin spread on his face. “I’m a fair bit tipsy, Potter.”

“And that’s why you asked?”

Draco shook his head. “No… I asked because I think you’re fit,” he smiled softly, staring at the floor.

Oh. _Oh._ Wonder and curiosity swirled in Harry’s mind—Draco thought he was fit? “Wait… are you gay?” Harry blurted out, his brain not prepared to ask anything else just yet.

Draco tilted his head in thought. “I think so,” he said softly, and the admission seemed so vulnerable that Harry was struck incoherent by the openness of it.

“How…?” he started, tracing a line into the carpet with his finger.

“How did I know?” Draco finished for him, and he nodded. “I just did,” Draco’s mouth twisted. “Not sure how to pinpoint it, really.”

“…And you think… I’m…” Harry couldn’t bring himself to repeat the words.

“I think you’re fit. And I also think that you might like boys, too,” Draco asserted, expression quietly probing.

Why had Draco been thinking about Harry at all? Unless, of course, he liked Harry, which… was not honestly a bad prospect, but it certainly seemed out of the blue. They had only just started being friends, after all…

And Harry hadn’t even thought about liking boys at all! It’s not like he thought about cocks regularly while he wanked, or like he’d stared at Terry Boot’s arse a few weeks ago when the other boy had stood up and leaned over the table at dinner the other night…

Except he had done those things. He just hadn’t paid attention to it.

Wait…

Shite.

He stared at the floor, eyes wide with his third realization of the night. Shaking his head slowly, the words flowed from his body without his permission. “I think… I think I’m gay.” Then he squinted in confusion, because he hadn’t ever known that about himself before, and it was an odd sort of realization to have about oneself while drunk.

“You’ve just realized?” Draco asked, and Harry remembered that he was not in fact alone.

“…Yeah. Er. Yeah, I think so. Pretty sure, at least,” his words tumbled out of his mouth and into the air.

“You’re really oblivious, aren’t you, Potter?” Draco smirked. It wasn’t a mean smirk, though, it was actually a rather nice one, and his hair looked rather nice tonight, now that he was thinking about it—

_Shite._

Draco. Draco was gay, and Harry was probably gay, and he’d been feeling odd around Draco lately, hadn’t he?

And that would mean—that would mean that Harry liked Draco, didn’t it?

As Harry was trying to puzzle it all out, Draco began to laugh heartily, leaning his head back against the bed.

Harry stared at him. He looked nice when he laughed.

So Harry liked Draco. Okay. Okay. He could deal with that, probably.

“You all right, Potter?” Draco eyed him, his happy grin unwavering. “You don’t have to think too hard about it, you know.”

Harry cleared his (suddenly very dry) throat. “I’m all right,” he murmured, hoping it was true. “You… think I’m fit.”

Draco’s gaze suddenly became serious. “Yes, Potter. I do. Quite fit, actually.” His eyes were speculative, and he poured himself another shot, laughing quietly. “Anyway, I really cannot believe you just figured it out.”

“Figured it out?” Harry asked, briefly horrified—did Draco know that Harry liked him already?

“That you’re gay…?” Draco passed him the bottle, and Harry resisted the urge to drink straight from it, pouring himself another shot instead.

“Oh. Right. Should probably stop drinking after this one,” he murmured, because his heart was beating way too fast and he was feeling warm all over.

“Okay,” Draco said, and then he grinned in a way that was almost shy, leaning forward to take the bottle back from Harry. He shifted closer then, to put the bottle on the desk, and now his knees were touching Harry’s and Harry was intoxicated in more ways than one.

Draco made as if to shift backwards again, and Harry found that his own hand had moved to stop Draco, because he quite possibly wanted to be touching Draco forever. Draco blinked down at Harry’s hand on his knee, and Harry could hear him swallow with nervousness.

“That’s my leg, Potter,” he murmured, still staring at it.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and then Draco was leaning forward again, so close that they were breathing the same air. Harry’s heart clenched involuntarily, and it was almost hard to breathe because Draco smelled too good.

“H-Harry,” Draco said, and Harry shuddered. “Do you…” he started, but then frowned, leaning away. Harry’s breath hitched at the loss. “You don’t actually… you’re just figuring things out, I shouldn’t,” Draco was saying, and Harry wanted to do nothing more than shut him up.

So he reached up with a trembling hand and put a finger to Draco’s lips, pressing them closed. “You should,” he whispered, nervous but filled with so much _wanting_ it hurt.

“I… should?” Draco said, and his words came in warm puffs against Harry’s finger. The sensation ran through his blood, mixing with the alcohol and adrenaline and lust and making him shiver.

“Yes,” Harry said, and his voice was probably huskier than he’d wanted it to be. But then it was all right, because Draco was pulling Harry’s hand away and lurching toward him and kissing him.

Harry’s head hit the desk behind him, but the small bloom of pain was nothing in the face of the wonderful and heady feeling of soft lips on his, of the warm body on top of him. And they were in an awkward position, but Harry didn’t care. They were _kissing._

He was _kissing_ Draco.

_Merlin._

Draco’s tongue was hot and slick on his lips, working him open with careful persuasion. And when he let his mouth fall open, all he could feel was Draco and firewhisky and the patient slide of Draco’s lips on his. Despite having lunged at him in the first place, Draco was being surprisingly gentle, coaxing Harry into the kiss in a way that somehow soothed his nervous trembling.

Draco pulled away, but in the next moment hands were at the side of Harry’s face, holding him steady. “I… That is what you wanted, right?” he asked. He looked nervous, and his breath was coming in soft pants against Harry’s face.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry replied emphatically, craving more. “I want…” he started to lean forward again, needing to recapture the mouth that had made him come undone, but Draco pulled just far enough away that he couldn’t reach.

“I… do you want to lay down?” Draco looked away, and his face seemed pinker than usual.

And—oh. _Oh._ He was insinuating _that_ , then?

But then Harry really _thought_ about it, and suddenly he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted most anything else. The yearning filled him, tugging at his heart and his groin and filling him with the need to be pressed as close to Draco as was physically possible.

“Er… I—yes,” Harry whispered, as the aching spread through his body like a burst of magic.

Draco smiled at him, and it was a soft smile of a kind he’d never seen on Draco’s face before. “No sex for now, all right?” he murmured, seeming regretful as he stood up and pulled Harry with him.

Harry moaned lightly in distress. “But… I want you, really,” he insisted.

Draco shook his head, growing serious. “I’m drunk. You’re drunk. For all we know, we could wake up in the morning and find out that this was a huge mistake.” Draco frowned slightly, and it tore at Harry’s heart as if he’d been stabbed.

“You think it’s a mistake?” he whispered, his throat constricting around his newfound happiness as if it would strangle it.

“No!” Draco shook his head. “No… I don’t. I’ve wanted this for a while, okay? I just had to wait for you to realize it, and I want you to be sure…” He looked vulnerable in a way that reminded Harry of a shadowed face, of fear and smoke and fire, and Harry couldn’t resist stepping forward to hug him.

He swallowed down the ache in his throat, because Draco _wanted_ him, Draco truly liked him. He’d never known, and he felt a bit silly now, but he could deal with that in the morning. “It’s not a mistake,” he promised, pressing his lips to Draco’s neck.

Draco let out a breathy sigh, warm on Harry’s scalp. “Are you sure? You seem scared, Potter.”

Harry laughed sharply, happiness swelling in his chest. “I’m sure. And in the morning…”

“Yeah?”

“Can we…?” he murmured, hoping that the words spoke for themselves.

Draco caught his meaning, pulling back to smirk at him. “Yes, Harry Potter. When we’re both sober, I fully intend to fuck you senseless.”

Harry had to push himself to resist the rush of need that swept through him. He kissed Draco instead, reveling in the softness of it. “I’ll hold you to that, Malfoy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll definitely follow through,” Draco waggled his eyebrows, and then they were laughing and falling into bed and kissing like everything was all right.

And everything would be, in time. Even though Draco thought he was oblivious and they were both so very scarred, Harry couldn’t help but have a good feeling about what was to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://alpha-exodus.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
